This Day in Age
by PrettyWiccan
Summary: All Tom wants is a challenge. Where will he find a girl like that? definately not this day in age.
1. Circumstances

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: This will eventually become a Tr/Hg fic. My very First one!

Summary: All Tom wants is a challenge.

This Day in Age

Chap 1: Circumstances

Very little was expected of a woman in 1944.

Besides giving birth, a woman was groomed from childhood to cook, clean, and care for her husband and children. Women were left with very few options, and little was different in the wizarding world. In fact, besides the need to learn simple domestic household spells it was debated why it was necessary to send girls to Hogwarts at all.

With their only resource being to marry, and marry well, the whole of Hogwarts was brimming with vapid, giggling, doe-eyed gold-diggers.

At least that's what Tom thought of them as he passed a gaggle on his way to Potions. Every. Last. One. But he smiled, and managed a charming "Evening, Ladies." just the same. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. Whispers and giggles were all he recieved in return as they passed him by. As he turned to walk away one girl broke from he group and tugged gently at the sleeve of his outer robes.

"Tom?" Her voice was soft, timid and vaguely familliar.

"Tom?" she repeated. He turned

"Yes?"

She kept her eyes were averted, never looking at him directly for more than a moment. Her mousy brown hair fell to her waist. She was clutching a Divination textbook tightly to her chest.

"Do you think you could meet me in the library later on?...To erm..Study?"

Ah, now he remembered her. Lucy. Lucy...Something. Ravenclaw.

"I'm terribly sorry Lucy, I've got a meeting with the prefects that will take up most of the evening and being Head Boy and all and I'm afraid I simply must attend...Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Ah, Yes" She said. Eyes to the floor. No attempt to hide the dissapointment. "Tommorrrow, then."

"Well, Good Evening then Lucy." He managed an unnoticably forced smile, then turned to leave.

'Silly girl.' Tom thought. The last thing he needed was a needy, clingy girl shamelessly following him around like a lost puppy. As a boy, Tom asserted to never associate with girls or succumb to their wiles and lies. Now that he was older, However. He learned that they were very useful when he wanted to sate more carnal needs. But once he was through with them, he _always_ made it clear that their services were no longer required. This Lucy girl was no different. He never worried that one of them would start blubbering about his mistreatment of them. In 1944 a witch would rather eat flubberworms than admit that she was not completely untouched by male hands before she was married.

But it was all too _easy_. Far to easy to single a girl out and charm her with a few sweet words and gentle touches. He was handsome. He was Head Boy. He had a bright future ahead of him. And in their eyes, excellent marriage material. They would bat their eyelashes, smile widely, and feign interest. Fantasizing that they were snagging the next Minister of Magic. But he wasn't biting, and they were easily fooled.

What he really wanted was someone who could match him. Match him in intelligence and ambition. Where would he find a girl like that? Definately not this day in age.

_So that's it! the very first chapter of my very first fic! Hope you all like! constructive critisizm is welcome but no flames please. _

_PrettyWiccan_


	2. A Dish Served Cold

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: I will always view Tom Riddle in the image of Christian Coulson. Yes I am aware his eyes are blue. Just go with it.

Summary: All Tom wants is a challenge.

This Day in Age

Chap 2: A Dish Served Cold.

The wind swept through Hermione's body and chilled her to her very soul. The sharp, black shalestones cut her hands as she climbed the almost vertical face of the mountain. The blood was beginning to effect her grip, and the salty seaspray burned her wounds and stung her eyes. She winced. Below her the Dark Sea churned angrily, almost daring her to lose her footing so it could claim her. Above her, Harry was reaching for her hand. He shouted something to her, but it was lost in the relentless wind that beat down upon them. They were slowly making their way to the cave on the side of the mountain. _'He would choose a place like this to hide.' _Hermione thought. _'Coward_.'

Cowardly, yes but ingenious. Not even _She _thought for one second to look here, And there were some who called her the brightest witch of her age. _'None of which are still alive.' _She thought bitterly. They would still be looking if Luna hadn't told them where to go.

Flashback

_Hermione was sitting in the chair by the fire at Pheonix Headquarters, very much engrossed in reading "Magical Hair Charms and How Not to Use Them." By Yeti. Harry and Luna had a map laid out on the floor and were discussing possible locations Voldermort and his Death Eaters may have chosen to hide. Luna was of the impression that if she repeated a location on the map out loud and Harry's scar throbbed, than that's where they'd find 'Ole Snake Eyes. Needless to say, it was a large map and Harry was growing quite bored._

_"Wellesley?" _

_"No." Harry sighed._

_"Khat Mandu?"_

_"That's just silly, Luna...Luna?"_

_But Luna had begun to shake, then slowly rock back and forth. She was mumbling to herself. Hermione dropped her book and made her way towards Luna, but Harry raised a hand to stop her._

_"Stay there, Hermione. She could be cursed." He ordered._

_"I can't just sit an-"_

_"Stay There!" He shouted. "Luna. It's Harry. Can you hear me?" He kneeled in front of her. "Luna?"_

_Abruptly, Luna stopped rocking and looked directly into Harry's eyes. Her eyes were glazed with a blank expression, nothing like the dreamy stare he had become so accustomed to._

_"Seek him out on the Day of Ages." She said in a voice not her own. It was like a chorus of a hundred women all speaking at once in perfect harmony. _

_"Follow the Moon to where the World Ends. _

_Find the Ocean in which no Fish will dwell. _

_Then you must battle the Whipping Winds _

_until you reach a Great Darkness. _

_Where One Life will be traded for Another."_

_She then slumped forward, unconscious. Harry had to catch her to keep her from hitting the ground._

End Flashback

Harry took Hermione's hand and helped her to the top of the cliff. He truly was a sight. His face was dusted with black soot from the shalestones. His clothes were dirty and torn. Hermione was sure that she was no beauty queen either, with cuts all over her face and hands that were stiff and sticky with dried blood.

They rested there, at the top of the cliff. Neither one saying a word for what seemed like ages, until Harry eventually spoke.

"We should get going." He said.

"Yeah."

Beginning their journey into the darkness, Harry lit his wand with a quick "Lumos."

"Harry! No! They'll see us coming miles away!" Hermione scolded.

"Your right" He conceded. "Nox."

Unknown to them, their presence had already been noticed by a pair of unseen red eyes. He began to recite a spell in the language known only to those of his line.

_"Sssssesstia Phhhiinaaa Eessst..."_

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked nervously. "I could have sworn.."

"Be quiet, Harry!" Hermione shushed him. "Do you want them to hear us?"

"But they've already heard you." Said a voice from the darkness. It was calm, smooth and clear. If crushed velvet made a sound, this was it. There was a spot above the cave where the ceiling had sunk in, letting light spill through. A figure stepped into the light.

_"Ssshiiika Hassssofff Rasstaa..." _

Hermione's heart sank to her stomache. The boy before her, who couldn't be any older than her, was strikingly beautiful. His short, Jet-black hair was parted on the left side and floated in neat waves across the sides of his head. his skin was alabaster white and his eyes were the deepest chocolate brown. She also stepped into the light.

"Hermione! No!" Harry tried to stop her. but she raised her hand to silence him. "I killed you! How are you still here?" He shouted to the boy. But he was paid no heed.

"Its Ok, Harry."

The second Hermione stepped into the light the boy's expression changed from stonish stoicism to pure shock. He sank to his knees before her. Hermione was both startled and confused. He took her hand and placed it on his smooth cheek. He spoke only once more.

"I've been waiting for you."

_" Phhhiistaaa Ssssassssna Hhhhaaaasssshhhita!"_

The second the boy laid his filthy hand on Hermione, Harry drew his wand.

"Hermione, Move!" he shouted. "You will not beat me, Tom! And you will not have her!" He pushed Hermione, who was still in a daze to the side. "Avada Kedavera!"

The boy turned his head and stared into Hermione's eyes. A peaceful expression spread across his face as a flash of green light hit him.

"Hermione I got him. Did he hurt you?" Harry turned to her.

But Hermione was gone.

_Ok! that does it for chapter 2! You like? I know what your all thinking, but its a surprise! You'll just have to keep reading!_

_Prettywiccan_


	3. Where does the time go?

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: _Aaaw C'mon guys! My mailbox is sooo empty! Where's the love? I really want reviews! Not just 'Great story.' or 'This totally blows.' or 'Please update soon' I want to know how you guys feel about my composition, how accurate I keep my timeline. And most of all, am I keeping everyone in character? Don't let me wander into the vast mist of OC'ness. Kay? Also, I realize that my grammar isn't perfect. Please, let that slide._

Summary: All Tom wants is a challenge. Where or rather When will she come from?

This Day in Age

Chap 3. Where does the time go?

Wilfred Fowles was behind the counter polishing his brand-new bar. It had taken he and his wife seven years of scrimping and saving every sickle to open the Three Broomsticks and business was booming. It seemed that Hogsmeade was ripe for an establishment where one could order something a fair bit stronger than butterbeer. Though it was needless to say that this close to Hogwarts, he'd already had to chase out his fair share of underage patrons. So when he saw a young-looking girl no older than sixteen peering inside through the frosty windowpane, he'd already had broomstick in hand ready to shoo her out.

Upon making eye contact, the girl hurriedly let herself in. A sharp jingle could be heard from the bell on the door.

Already Wilfred knew something was off.

The girl was wearing some strange style of men's clothing that was torn and dirty. Her tear-streaked face (Equally dirty.) was covered in painful looking scratches and her light brown hair that at one time must have been very beautiful was now bushy and matted.

"My dear, are you alright?" He said in a low voice, careful not to startle her or alert his customers.

"Please help me." She said. Barely above a whisper and quite obviously biting back sobs. She desperately grabbed Wilfred's arm and it was then he saw the blood crusted gashes on her hands. The blood had stained the ends of her sleeves.

"What on earth-What is your name child? Who did this to you?"

Tears flooded her large, cinnamon _( A/U: Cinnemon, Cinnamin...aww screw it.) _eyes as her whole body wracked with sobs, repeating the same thing over and over again.

"I don't know!"

"I don't know!"

Somewhere in the corner of the pub a man reading 'The Daily Prophet' folded down a corner to see about all the commotion. If one looked closely the headline could be read:

_October 2 1944,_

GRINDENWALD TERRORIZES FRANCE

_Aaaaand that's it for chap 3! I know, it was short and I know I played the amnesia card. I was determined not to play the Time-Turner card! It was the only way I could set it up to get Hermione to believably fall for Tom. If she knew about him, what he was yet to become, and the pain he'd cause her friends in the future, she'd never consider it. Also Tom wouldn't look twice at Hermione if he thought she was muggleborn. Pretty or not. Talented or not. Intelligent or not._

_The dude has a serious prejudice to the entire muggle society. And all because Daddy never loved him. Y'know they said Hitler was part Jewish..._


	4. A Sight For Sore Eyes

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author:_Finally! Tom makes an appearance Thanks for all the detailed reviews guys! Worry not! everything is planned out and all will be revealed... slowly._

Summary: 'For some reason the twinkle in this man's eyes was the most comforting thing she had seen in some time. It was like a warm blanket of relief had spread through her heart when it had felt chilled for so long._ How long? _She asked herself.'

This Day in Age

Chap 4: A Sight For Sore Eyes

The stew was warm and it coated her stomache with comforting blandness. The clothes (A blue, knee-length pleated skirt and soft white woolen jumper.) were loose on her, but they were clean. She was clean too. The proprietor of the pub had taken her home with him. His wife had healed her cuts and given her some clothes and a bath. Her hair was still bushy, but no longer dirt-caked and matted. Now she was eating beef stew with a slice of crusty bread.

In the other room, Wilfred and his wife were speaking to each other in low whispers. Discussing what to do with her.

"Where do you think she came from?" Millie, his wife, queried.

"Isn't it obvious? This close to Hogwarts? Some overzealous student must've cornered her with a nasty memory charm. Really, children can be so cruel-"

"But what about those wounds? The dirt?_ Those clothes?" _Millie retorted.

Wilfred couldn't answer that one.

"You dont think-" She mouthed the word _'Grindenwald?'_

"Of course not dear, don't be daft. Haven't you been reading the papers? He's off terrorizing the French." Wilfred didn't like the thought of Grindenwald on English shores, let alone in his own backyard.

"So, what do we do with her?" Millie asked. "Should we alert the ministry?"

"Don't be silly, my dear. There's no point wasting their time when it was obviously nothing more than a cruel joke. The Ministry has enough on their plate as it is. When she finishes her food I'll take her up to Hogwarts. She most definately came from there. In fact, I'll owl the Headmaster right now so there'll be someone to recieve us when we arrive."

With that Wilfred stood and walked over to the writing table on the other side of the parlor. It was made of heavy slabs of knotted pine. The handles on the drawers were large and weathered with heavy use. It had been in his family for generations. He remembered watching his father writing at the very same table as a boy. It was partly the reason why he enjoyed polishing the bar at the Three Broomsticks, it was also aged and worn.

He retrieved a fresh quill from one of the drawers as well as a new roll of parchment and unscrewed the lid to his inkpot.

He had decided to keep things short and to the point.

_Headmaster Dippet,_

_I seem to have stumbled across one of your students, rather she stumbled upon me. She seems to have met the wrong end of a particularly nasty memory charm. Doesn't remember a thing.The poor thing looked as if she's been wandering around for days before finding her way to my pub. And she was wearing the strangest clothes! I plan on escorting her up to the castle shortly and request that someone be there to recieve us._

_Reguards,_

_Wilfred Fowles, Proprietor of The Three Broomsticks._

Wilfred sealed the letter, then opened a small window by the fireplace on the far side of the parlor. He placed his thumb and forefinger under his tongue and sharply whistled out the window. A gray tawney owl landed on the sill.

"Take this to the Headmaster at Hogwarts, please." He plunked a few sickles into his pouch and handed the owl a biscuit. The tawney chirped pleasantly and headed off.

Within the hour it had returned with a reply.

_Mister Fowles,_

_How fortunate that the young lady is safe and unharmed. Some with intentions not as noble could have indeed taken advantage of her state. Please accept my sincerest gratitude. Someone will most definately be there to greet you at the gates, where you will be immediately led to my office. I would like to get this matter settled post haste._

_Headmaster Dippet,_

_Hogwarts Headmaster_

It was already nightfall when she and Wilfred headed up the dirt road that led to Hogwarts. Wilfred had lit his wand, but it was so dark she nearly had to jog to keep up and avoid stumbling over the divets and the canyons left behind by the Thestrals. Behind her, she could see the lanterns lit all around Hogsmeade. She could hear the wind brushing through the trees and she could feel leaves dance around her ankles only to crunch beneath her feet. The air was cool and smelled like wet earth. Like autumn. And strangely, like home.

Wilfred was carrying a small satchel with her clothes in it. Millie suggested they burn them, but Wilfred protested. They may have held some clue as to who had done this to her. So he folded up her filthy clothes and packed them in a little satchel. And being ever the gentleman, he had also opted to carry it for her.

When they reached a clearing she could make out the stars in the night sky. There was no moon that nightwhich explained the total darkness. She could almost make out the black outline of the castle. Well, an outline of something because she wasn't yet aware it _was_ a castle.

"Almost there, my dear." Wilfred said as they neared the castle gates. "We'll have this mess settled out in no time. Soon, you'll be laughing about this whole thing with your friends." He smiled. "You are most welcome to drop by every now and again, of course. I'm sure I could dust off a butterbeer or two just for you."

Now it was her turn to smile. Her chocolate brown eyes crinkled pleasantly.

"Thank you so much for all you and your wife have done. Who knows how long I'd have wandered around if-"

"Now, now, Its like the Headmaster said. 'Some with intentions not as noble.' and all that." He grabbed her shoulder firmly with one arm. "Fear not, my dear girl for you are to soon be on the road to recovery!" And then he chuckled at the joke he had unknowingly just made. "Well then!" He exclaimed. Nodding to the very road they were travelling. "I suppose we already are!"

At the gates they were met by a pale, platinum blond boy with a large badge inscribed with the letter 'P' on his robes. He looked at Wilfred as if he were nothing more than a cockroach that needed stepping on.

"I have been instructed to lead _you_," He paused, looking her up and down. "To the Headmaster 's office."

"Well." Wilfred began. "I suppose this is where I leave you then, my dear." Then he smiled. "Good luck!"

"The Headmaster also requests that _you_ be present." The blond boy's voice dripped with venom.

"Oh? Well, best be off then." Wilfred ignored the obvious contempt in his voice.

The trip went without conversation. She closed her eyes and listened to their steps echoing loudly throughout the large, stone corridors. She knew this place, and when the boy spoke aloud a password to open a hidden door she was sure of it.

As they entered the large office. she noticed two people.The boy did not stay. One tall spindly man behind the large desk piled with papers, and a small toadlike man with great big, beady eyes to his right. _(A/N I don't know what Dippet looked like and that's how I picture Slughorn.) _

"Ah, you've arrived. I was just discussing your predicament with my collegues." The spindly man waved them in. "I'm Headmaster Dippet. This," He gestured to the toadish man. "Is Professor Slughorn, our Potionsmaster and head of Slythrin House. And this," He gestured to the man in the corner. "Is Professor Dumbledore, our Transfigurations teacher and Head of Griffindor House."

The second she glanced at this man, a wave of familiarity washed over her. For some reason the twinkle in this man's eyes was the most comforting thing she had seen in some time. It was like a warm blanket of relief had spread through her heart when it had felt chilled for so long._ How long? _She asked herself.

And it was he who addressed her first. "I am very curious as to how you've come to be in this situation, my dear."

He said. "Tell me, what_ do _you remember?"

"I remember standing in the middle of the woods." She replied. "And my hands," She held them up. "There were deep cuts on my hands. It was very painful. I wandered aimlessly for hours. I had no idea which direction to go or how long I'd be walking before I found someone. It didn't take very long for me to realize that not only did I not know _where_ I was, but I didn't know_ who _I was, either."

"Curiouser, and curiouser. Wouldn't you say, Armando?" Professor Dumbledore commented.

"What I think is curious, Albus, is why did you fail to mention that the girl was injured in your letter to me, Mr. Fowles?"

"I simply thought she had done it on her way to finding me. She was in such hysterics by the time she stumbled upon the Three Broomsticks, I decided not to press the matter. And my wife was able to heal her easily enough, So i didn't think it was important to mention."

"I see. You said she was wearing strange clothing?" Headmaster Dippet inquired. "I see nothing peculiar with what she is wearing now."

"Mrs. Fowles gave me these." She piped up. "Mr Fowles has my clothes in that satchel."

"Ah! yes." Wilfred had been thinking about something and wasn't paying attention. "Here." He handed The Headmaster the satchel.

Headmaster Dippet fished through the bag and pulled out all her clothes. She felt her cheeks burn as he pulled out her wad of dirty socks, but he seemed less interested in them and more interested in her jeans.

"Well, Mr Fowles. I suppose you were right. How very strange." He checked the label. "Chic? That is French is it not, Albus?"

"Indeed, Armando. Though its meaning escapes me at the moment."

"Where do you suppose one could find the closest shop where one could purchase French clothing, Proffessor Slughorn? The Headmaster knew to ask him, being the more materialistic of the two. Dumbledore wouldn't bother with such trifles.

"Ah, there's a lovely boutique in Muggle London. But they are in the middle of a war themselves, conserving every resource in the effort. Getting ones hands on such luxuries would be very difficult, not to mention...expensive." The gleam in Professor Slughorn's eyes was missed by no one.

It had then occurred to Armando Dippet that whomever this girl was, she had obviously come from money. If she had the resources and the funds to purchase such frivilous items and not bat one eyelash when she'd ruined them, it may prove beneficial to aid her in any way possible.

"I'm sure I can speak for all of us when I express my deepest gratitude for going such trouble for a strange girl in these times." Headmaster Dippet addressed Wilfred. "We will handle things from this point. But know that if there is anything I can do for you.."

"Completely unnecissary, Headmaster." He turned to the girl. "I wish you much luck, my girl. Remember, you are welcome to visit anytime. Goodbye, dear." With that he turned and was out the door.

The Headmaster began folding up her clothes to place them back into the sachel when something fell out of the rear pocket. A small slip of paper fell onto his desk. The Headmaster retrieved said item and upon further inspection, discovered that it was a library card. A Hogwarts library card. It was registered to one Hermione Granger.

"Well this is most interesting." He said as he handed the card to Dumbledore. "What do you make of this, Albus?"

Dumbledore inspected the library card most intensley. He tapped it with his wand and when nothing happened, he spoke.

"This is most definately on of ours, Armando. But something has plagued me throughout this entire meeting."

"And what is that, Albus?" The Headmaster inquired.

"I'm afraid I do not remember seing this girl in any of my classes and even upon learning her name, still no memory comes to mind." He said, quite perturbed.

"Come to think of it. Headmaster, I also do not recognize this girl from any of my classes, either. Nor do i recognize her name." Both Dumbledore and Slughorn's eyes rested on Dippet as if they expected him to confirm her identity.

"Well don't look at me!" The Headmaster said defensively. "I see so many faces day-to-day its impossible for me to recognize just one. Honestly, hundreds of students stop me in the hall and say 'hello'. I can't _really _be expected to remember all their names, Names! AH!" He exclaimed. "I shall consult the List of Letters!"

The List of Letters was the enchanted list that recorded when each magical child born and when to send that child their Hogwarts letter.

"You look to be aroung sixteen or seventeen years of age." The Headmaster withdrew his wand and flicked it in the air. "Jee Arrr's, Please. Ninteen twenty-seven through thirty-one."

An old, yellow roll of parchment appeared out of thin air and landed in Dippet's hand. He unrolled it and began skimming through the names.

"Lets see...Grabble, Gradstone, Grae, Grafton, Graltenwuuld. Gramm, Grangis, Graphe. No Granger at all I'm afraid. This is most puzzling."

"Is it really, Armando?" Dumbeldore wondered out loud.

"What are your thoughts, Albus?" Dippet was most curious to what the old coot was thinking.

"Let's simply repeat our facts, shall we?" Dumbledore advised. "A strange girl which no one here has seen before, severly injured and wearing French clothing, having no recollection of who she is of where she came from, mysteriously appears in the middle of the woods, coincidentally as close as you can get to the school by apparating, with nothing to identify herself with other than a school issued library card which we have just proven to be falsified." Dumbledore sighed. "I would say someone was trying to make absoloutley sure we found you, Miss...Granger."

"Which is proof of her status." Proffessor Slughorn suggested. "One of Grindelwald's enemies in France, obviously English and very wealthy must have been one of those attacked recently. Which accounts for Miss Granger's clothes and wounds. In an attempt to save the life of their daughter, her parents Obliterated her mind to avert her detection and Apperated her as close to the grounds as they could, giving her only a very expertly forged Hogwarts library card registered under a pseudonym to identify herself with. Obviously the very _best_ money can buy." He said. Lightly fingering the card.

"My, that's a very big story, Proffessor." Dumbledor said amusedly.

"Well, then. If that is the case, Miss Granger." The Headmaster smiled, ignoring Dumbledore. "Hogwarts will most certainly offer you aslyum. Reversing an Obliviation, I'm afraid, depending on the power of the caster can take some time to reverse. Until then I think I'll put you in the Head Girl's room, which is currently vacant seeing as we haven't had a Head Girl since..."

"Minerva Magonagall, Armando. Gryffindor." Dumbledore winked. _(A/N Notice she never married?)_

"Ah, yes. Quite some time. No one seems up for the job lately, I'm afraid. Also," He tapped Hermione's library card and his signature appeared under hers "Although I cannot allow you to attend classes until we get this whole mess sorted out, what I can offer you unrestricted access to the library to amuse yourself during the wait." He handed her the card and turned to Professor Slughorn. "Would you bring Tom to my office, Professor? I will have him escort her to her room, teach her the password et cetera. And you, of course may take your leave as well. If you like." Then he turnrd to Hermione. "Tom Riddle is our Head Boy. He's in Slytherin, and quite poszsibly the brightest student to attend Hogwarts since... You, Albus." Dippet glanced sideways toward Dumbledore.

"Anything is possible." Dumbledore said with the twinkle in his eyes most evident.

Slughorn opened his cloak and pulled out a miniature badge similar to the one the rude blond boy had. But instead of the letter 'P' the letters 'HB' were inscribed on the face. He tapped the badge with his wand and said; "To the Headmaster's office."

"I must ask you to be descreet where the students are concerned. If they ask, simply tell them you are an exchange student and you haven't begun classes yet because you've arrived a bit early and are still waiting for pending paperwork to file through. I will also see about getting you some new clothes and things. The house-elves should have them in your room by the time you arrive." The Headmaster mentioned.

About ten minutes later, the door reopened. Hermione didn't notice as she was chatting with Professor Dumbledore and couldn't shake this feeling that she knew him from somewhere before.

"You called for me, Headmaster?" Said a voice, crisp and clear like crushed velvet. Hermione whipped her head around.

A handsome boy with tidy ebony hair and alabaster skin looked at her with crystal clear gray eyes like the sea after a storm.

"Ah, Tom. There you are. This is Hermione Granger, she is an exchange student from France. She will be staying in the Head Girl's room as all other room is currently occupied. Please show her the way and teach her the password."

"Of course, Headmaster. This way, Hermione."

But Hermione wasn't listening.

Flashes of memory flooded her brain, of that very same boy kneeling before her. A flash of green light.

_"I've been waiting for you."_

_Aaaaand that was one Loooooooong Chapter! _

_I came up with the name List of Letters because I couldn't remember what Rowling had called it, if she called it anything at all. You'll notice I used a lot of 'she' and 'the girl' when discribing Hermione rather than using her name. This was intentional. I wanted to cement the amnesia idea. I thought if I used her name it would confuse people or make them think she really didn't lose her memory.But once she learned her name I put it back. Fun fact: Wilfred is actually my grampa's name! It seemed to fit though! Well,TTFN!_


	5. Win a Battle, Start a War

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: A lovely Tom/Hermione standoff!

Summary: _Hermione was just about to grasp one of said handles when a hand closed over her mouth, an arm wrapped around her waist and she found herself being dragged quite roughly from behind._

This Day in Age

Chap 5: Win the Battle, Start a War

Tom considered himself to be a relatively intelligent being. Scratch that, a Very intelligent being. Though he obediantly ferried this seemingly unextrordinary girl as asked, he knew something was amiss. Two of the school's best professors (Though not necessarily in _his_ opinion.) don't gather in the Headmaster's office at all hours of the night to greet an exchange student. In fact, Tom wasn't even aware Hogwarts even _accepted_ exchange students, and there was very little about Hogwarts (Or _any_thing for that matter.) that he wasn't aware of. Hermione Granger was hiding something and he was going to fish it out.

Unfortunately, Tom had been so enamored with his own thoughts that when he came to, she was nowhere to be seen.

And if Miss Granger thought she was going to continue evading him with her heavy footsteps reverberating noisily off the thick stone corridors, she was sadly mistaken._ 'And terribly unladylike_.' He mused.

Hermione was exhausted. Her eyelids were drooping and her feet felt like lead. So she was more than happy to trail behind this Tom fellow like a dog on a leash if it meant there'd be a place in which she could surrender to subconsciousness at the end. He wasn't exactly the example of warmth and personality though, they had been walking nearly ten minutes and he hadn't even looked at her, let alone spoken to her. Hermione found his cold, standoffish-ness disconcerting. For Tom was very tall and his stride was enormous and-He didn't care if she kept up at all did he? Her annoyance at her appointed guide mountedas they traveled further down the corridor, and reached an area where one corridor intersected with another. This was when Hermione caught scent of it. Down the hallway to her right. It was like coffee in the morning to her, the smell of leather bindings and dry ink and old parchment. She really didn't mean to wander off, but, you know what? She didn't care one iota if she inconvenienced that callous prat one bit! Honestly! The way he looked down his nose at her!

She had made her way to a pair of large wooden double doors, worn with age at both handles. There were small dents in them and places where chips had simply been laquered over. Hermione was just about to grasp one of said handles when a hand closed over her mouth, an arm wrapped around her waist and she found herself being dragged quite roughly from behind.

Hermione's next movements were pure reflex. She jumped off the ground and landed as hard as she could onto one of his feet. Then she drove her right elbow hard into his groin and when her attacker released her to double over, she whirled around and backhanded him across his face with her fist, and assumed that due to the audible crack, she had broken his nose.

Tom had taken it amazingly well, barely making a noise when she shattered his nasal passage. Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes and kept her now drawn wand steady apon him. He, who had just managed to scrape himself off the floor, looked neither angry or afraid of this. Hermione closed in on him, aimed her wand at his steadily bleeding nose and said; "Episkey!" then to his bloody face and clothes muttering; "Scourgify!" His nose now repaired and his face and clothes were now as immaculate as they had been previously and he looked merely _amused_.

"Is this some new type of torture? Beating me like a Muggle and then healing me?"

"You shouldn't have snuck up on me like that."

"You shouldn't have wandered off."

"I wanted to see the library."

"And just how is it you knew where the library was?"

"I sort of...sniffed it out..."

"Did you... I must say, Miss Granger, you took me off guard. I'll let it slide..for now, simply because it amused me. But, I warn you," His eyes were such a clear gray, that in the darkness with his pupils dihilated to their full extent, made them appear to be black as coals. He was easily over six feet tall and the way he moved in on her it was obvious to Hermione that he was trying to intimidate her. "I am not one to be trifled with. You would do well not to cross me again. In fact, I think I'll just leave you wandering out here tonight. You'd be surprised how easily I could lose you."

"That wouldn't be a very good idea, would it?" She jabbed her wand roughly into his right side, where she had elbowed him, where there was probably a very fair size bruise forming."Leaving a poor, defenseless girl out here in the big, black dark? When you were given direct orders from the Headmaster Himself to see me safely to my room?" With that she muttered "Episkey."

"Shall I inform the Headmaster how this 'poor, defenseless girl' ruthlessly pummelled Hogwarts' Headboy?"

"Would anyone believe that a 'poor defenseless girl' could _possibly _have committed such an act? Especially now that all evidence points to the contrary? Even so, beaten up by a girl, could you handle the embarrassment?"

Tom narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, as if sizing her up and calculating what to do next. Hermione could see his jaw tighten._ 'He doesn't like to lose.' _ She observed. Then, his features went slack, blank and expressionless. Unreadable. He turned and walked past her in the direction they had come from. He had conceded. Hermione had won, for now.

"Alright then. This way."

And so they walked in relative silence. Tom leading the way with Hermione a few steps behind. Left, right, up a spiral staircase, all the while Hermione making a mental map that would lead her back to the library. She was relieved when he finally stopped in front of a portrait of a medieval knight in full armor, apparently sleeping and sitting against a tree holding an empty bottle of mead, snoring loudly with his handlebar mustache hanging out of his open visor.

"It's a bit of a hike isn't it?" Hermione asked, catching her breath.

"That was the long way."

"Well, one must maintain their girlish figure somehow." Hermione said, not missing a beat. Tom had apparently decided to ignore her.

"Sir Cadagon."

Sir Cadagon sprung to life and jumped to his feet, causing his visor to crash down over his mustache, sending him into a tirade.

"What ho! A foe? Show Thyself and fight like a man, Knaive!" He declared, brandishing his sword and flailing it wildly. Voice muffled by the closed visor.

"Polyjuice, Sir Cadagon." Tom sounded slightly annoyed.

"Polywog am I! Well!-I, eh," Sir Cadagon lifted his visor. "Oh! Tom! Out at this time of night, young squire?" Noticing Hermione, he raised a bushy eyebrow. "With a lady, no less?! Unchaperoned?"

"Her name is Hermione Granger, an exchange student. She will be staying in the Head Girls' room."

"Exchange student? Never was! Never has been!"

"It's true," Hermione dug into her back pocket and produced a shiny Hogwarts library card and held it up to Cadagon, the neat scrolling signature of Armando Dippet did not go unnoticed by Tom.

Sir Cadagon leaned over and lifted his visor higher as if to get a better look. Satisfied, he swung open the portrait. "Worry not My Lady! From this day forth, I, Sir Cadagon shall protect thy honor!" He cried as his visor crashed down again

Hermione giggled as she followed Tom inside. "Guard it well!" She managed between giggles.

"Wiff my Wiife Wady!"

The portrait led to a small common room decorated with large tapestries, heavy carpets, cushy sofas and chairs, and heavy tables and bookshelves. There was a large fireplace to the right of the room with built-in bookshelves to the left. Hermione noticed that Tom had completely taken over this space, and why not? Up until now, he had been the only inhabitant. She drank in the room, noticing little things here or there. One thing that did catch her attention was that nothing was out of place.

On a table in front of the sofa closest to the fireplace, Tom had a pile of parchment, neatly stacked. He had an inkpot placed just so, and three quills to the right of the parchment in a perfect row, neither too close together nor too far apart. Her eyes flicked to the bookcase behind the sofa and noticed that all his books were alphabetical. If she had looked more closely, she would have noticed that it was also organized by subject and difficulty. Everything seemed to be put in its place for a reason. Hermione wondered what he'd do if she were to simply slide one of his objects a quarter of an inch to the right...

"..to the right next to the fireplace, You'll have to give it your own password- Are you listening?"

"Yes," Hermione got the gist. "My room is behind the portrait next to the fireplace and I'll have to give it my own password."

"Right, The bathroom is on the right side of the bookcase. Up by six if you wish to shower before classes. Ladies first, of course."

"Who said chivalry was dead?"

Tom smirked at this. "Perhaps you should read up on Chivalry, Miss Granger... Goodnight." He turned and whispered his password to the portrait of a shepherdess in a large field tending her sheep. She giggled, and let him in. Hermione turned to her portrait of a stuffy looking old woman sitting in a red velvet chair, holding a pair of opera glasses snobbily over her upturned nose.

"Hello, My name is Hermione Granger, I'll be staying in this room."

The woman looked at her as if she were a fly buzzing at her ears. "Password?" she said.

"I think it'll be...Bumblebee."

"Very well, then."

"Wait," Hermione stopped her from opening the portrait. "Even if He," She pointed to Tom's portrait. "Knows my password...Do Not let him in."

"No Riddle, Very well."

The portrait opened, Hermione snuck back to Tom's table and pushed his inkpot two inches to the right with her index finger, then scurried over to her portrait and entered. She kicked her shoes off and climbed into her bed. She didn't bother changing clothes. Once in bed, she couldn't help but recall how she had recognized Tom in the Headmaster's office, but dismissed it as her imagination as sleep claimed her.

That night she dreamed of Tom, illuminated in a green light, standing over her bed with his wand raised, slashing her open palms as she sheilded her face, and the smell of salty air.

Tom Riddle lay flat on his back beneath his emerald velvet sheets with one arm behind his head. He did not know whether or not to be highly annoyed or terribly impressed by this one Hermione Granger. Few would have crossed him like she and gone unpunished. Then again, few would have been smart enough to pull it off. Too many knew of his reputation to even try. He was still as dilligent as ever to find out the nature of her arrival, if not more so. He was also curious as to how she managed to aquire an unrestricted library card when he, the most brilliant mind to walk these halls, who had been trying to secure one for years, went without. He suspected Dumbledore had played a part in that. One thing was certain, it would serve him well to endear himself to her good graces. She would pay, however, for bruising his pride though the particulars would have to wait. He had Charms first thing and he didn't wish to appear unrested.

_A/N That's Chap 5! I must say I was quite dissapointed by how little reviews I recieved when chap 4 was my longest one so far. I must ask again that you refrain from simply putting 'Good Story' or 'Update Soon' It is detailed reviews I'm after! Did you get it? Dumbledore/Bumblebee? Also, when I think of Sir Cadagon, I'm reminded of the fox character from the 80's flick 'Labrynth' I may have incorporated that.. a bit. I really wanted to explore Hermione's no-nonsense quick-witted sense of humor. Also, Sorry for the wait, It just didn't come to me. and when it did it was like WHAM! the floodgates have opened! I hope all is to your liking!TTFN!_


	6. The Vapors

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: I had origionally intended this story to be mostly about Tom. It seems Hermione has taken over!

Summary: _' I do but I don't' _She thought. _'It's him but it isn't him, different somehow, I can't place it. ' _

This Day in Age

Chap 6: The Vapors

Hermione woke and dressed early that morning. The sun had yet to break through the thick Scottish mist and she thought of how similar it was to how it felt in her head. It was like a thick fog had rolled in throughout her brain, waiting for the light to make everything clear once again. The basics were there, she knew that after giving Riddle the ole' one-two and then healing him afterwards. But why did she know some things while others she did not? She knew nothing of herself or where she came from save her name and whether that was real or not had yet to be verified. When she tried to remember, really pushed herself, a migraine headache was her only reward. Lightly fingering her library card, she set out to remind herself of what she had forgotten.

Hermoine rubbed her aching temples as she navagated the halls. Marching down the halls like a woman possessed, people got out of her way. Over and over in her head she weighed the things she knew with the things she didn't. She knew the difference between the Magical and Muggle worlds. She knew she was a witch. She seemed to recognize Professor Dumbledore. _' I do but I don't' _She thought. _'It's him but it isn't him, different somehow, I can't place it. ' _It was then that Hermoine was jolted from her thoughts by the realization that she wasn't paying attention to her route and stopped short, directly in front of large, wooden double doors. The library. Students warily passed her by as she stared in bewilderment. How was it she knew where to go? It was like she had travelled this way a thousand times. Like she had been here, a long time - "Ah!" She cried aloud and cradled her pounding head that had protested her probing with a painful throb, but she _wasn't_ stopping now. Hermione convinced herself that her head would pound just as much if she had left and come back, so with that, she grasped the handle (but not without first glancing over her shoulder) and stepped inside.

She decided to start from the beginning, work her way up. Hermione marched through the stacks, picked up a book and threw it down apon a table, flipped it open and began scanning the pages and then stopped. She abruptly closed the book and read the title; 'Beginnings in Charms' by Corbin Fletcher. Picking up the book, she quickly returned to the spot where she had gotten it. What confused her was she had only been thinking about Charms when she grabbed the book, and also upon reading the title she was shocked to know that she already _knew_ what was inside, Everything! The pain in her head intensified but she trudged on, Transfiguration, Arithmacy, her face was hot and she felt dizzy. It was the same with Potions and Ancient Runes, she knew exactly where to find each book, like a train on a track and when she picked up said book she found she already knew its contents. Her stomache felt queasy and every breath felt like she was drawing in no air at all. She had made her way to the middle of the library, she was carrying; 'Magical Hair Charms and How Not to Use Them' by Yeti, when she collapsed to the floor.

Tom was watching Hermione from his cozy little corner of the library. He often came here to study or to avoid the noise of the Great Hall. He had even gone so far as to enchant his dark little enclave to ensure he would not be disturbed. Anyone who ventured near would suddenly remember something they had forgotten elsewhere and walk away. He was perfectly hidden but had an open view of the whole library. Tom was currently sitting in his favorite chair, thoroughly enjoying Miss Granger's little display of wandering to a stack, picking up a book and cradling her head as if merely touching the spine brought her physical pain. It amused him quite a bit, and he found that disconcerting. There was very little he found amusing and Hermione Granger had managed this feat twice so far. If she had meant to run around slam-banging books to and fro like a madwoman last night, he was glad that he'd stopped her when he did. Avoiding a psychotic episode Tom decided, was worth the broken nose. He suprised himself when he saw her drop like a sack of potatoes. He very nearly got up. _'What do you think your going to do?' _ He chastised himself. _'Go and help her? Save the day? What are you now? Tom Riddle: all-around-nice-bloke?'_ No. He kept his seat and watched as her limp form was levitated out of the library. It was then he rose, walked over to the place she fell and picked up the book she had been holding.

Very few people had ever witnessed Tom Riddle laugh at any point in his life. Those who have would have recalled it to be the most bone-chillingly creepy sound they'd ever heard.

When Tom Riddle picked up Hermione's book, he laughed.

When Hermione came to, she found herself being fussed over by a small, plump old woman whose salt-and-pepper hair was pulled up from her round face and wound into a tight bun atop her head.

"Well there you are! You gave us quite a scare! Dropped like a fly, you did! Off to the library first thing, didn't take any breakfast at all, I suspect." She waggled a dissaproving finger at Hermione. 'Albus told me you were an exchange student. My name is Madame Cushing."

The woman's voice was soft and tinkly, like fine china. Hermione felt if she pushed too hard that this woman, like china, would break.

"A hot meal is what you need." Madame said as she practically dropped a large tray on Hermione's lap. "And a tiny nip of Pepper-Up potion is in order, I think." She said as she lifted the lid.

Simply the smell of food as it wafted through her nose was enough to send Hermione reeling into nausea.

"Oh! sorry, Dear." Madame Cushing replaced the lid and lifted the tray. "That'll be the Filimentus, must not've worn off. It's wonderful on migraines but the nausea is quite terrible, thought it've worn off by the time you came to, sorry, Dear."

"Ah! Tom Riddle was here while you were still...out." She said dreamily. She picked up a book from the stand beside Hermione's bed. "He brought this for you, said you dropped it in the library. Said you could really...use it." The woman's eyes went wide.

It was obvious that by her hesitancy in her last sentence that the kindly nurse had not yet read the title until that very moment, for when Hermione scanned the cover, sure enough, it was the 'Magical Hair Charms' book she had been holding when she passed out. She huffed; "Prat."

It was nearly six o'clock before Madame let Hermione go. The library would be closed by now. What was she to do? Go back to her room? And do what? Sleep? She'd been sleeping all day. Wandering the halls aimlessly would do nothing but solidify her already growing reputation as a raving lunatic. The students already gave her wary looks and crossed to the opposite side of the corridor simply to avoid her. Returning to her room to face that smug prat, Riddle, as unpleasant as it sounded, seemed like her only option.

"Polyjuice, Sir Cadagon."

Sir Cadagon was at that moment, apparrantly practicing his fencing skills on the nearby tree with such gusto, he did not hear Hermione.

"Polyjuice, Sir Cadagon!" She screamed this time.

"Ah! My Lady!" He said, breathless. "I live to - "

"I'm in a real hurry, Sir. So if you don't mind..."

"As I was _saying, _Dear Lady," Cadagon huffed indignantly and straightened his armor. "The password's been changed."

"Riddle changed the password? Can he do that without me?"

"Apparantly so, because that's exactly what he _did_." He sulked. Still annoyed.

"So, I'm supposed to sit out here for however long it takes me to guess whatever word Riddle changed it to?"

"I imagine so."

"Right then," Hermione studied the book Tom had brought her from the library.

"Is it Yeti?"

"Afraid not."

"Did he leave a clue or...something?"

"None of the sort, Lady."

Hermione sighed and found herself rubbing her temple once again. The Pepper-Up potion was wearing off, and her patience was wearing thin.

"What exactly did he _say_, then?"

"He said; 'Hello, Sir Cadagon. How are you today? Your chainmail looks especially dapper this - "

"About the password!"

Sir Cadagon 'Harumphed' at this. "He said; 'Sir Cadagon, I will be changing the password this evening. The new password is..."

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well I'm not going to tell _you_."

"Why not?"

"Spoil the fun." He said quietly, intently inspecting his fingernails.

Tom was sitting in the common room in a chair closest to the portrait hole. He had a nice hot cup of tea and was listening to Hermione arguing with Sir Cadagon about the password, and he was fully intent on being there for the next few hours. Needless to say, he was a bit dissapointed when she burst into the room, dumped the heavy 'Magical Hair Charms' book uncerimoniously onto his lap, (nearly spilling his tea!) and glared at him witheringly as she roughly picked up the inkpot she had moved the night earlier and replaced it (not gently) exactly two inches to the left. She then turned to her portrait, Whispered the password and entered, slamming it behind her.

"Well, I never!" Her snooty portrait protested.

_A/N Wow! So its neck-and-neck now! Tom1 Hermione1. When writing the part of Madame Cushing, I envisioned the plump, elderly maid from '101 Dalamtions' (animated). As to the Chapter title, I was reminded of Scarlett O'Hara and "Oh! The vapors!" I also wanted to touch on the very English notion that spilling tea is blasphemous. By the way, Filimentus is a made up charm. Pulled it right outta my - well, you know. Have you guessed what thew new password is? TTFN!_


	7. The Art of Manipulation

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: This one was hard to write!

Summary:_ "Stuck in a dark little room with me, Riddle? Wouldn't that cramp your style?"_

This Day in Age

Chap 7: The Art of Manipulation

Weeks blended and blurred together to the point Hermione couldn't remember what she wore the day before let alone what she did. She was still unable to take classes and found herself envious of those who did. Day after day she spent languishing in the library. She had learned not to push herself after the fainting incident, so the books didn't cause her headaches anymore, but they also no longer held the same joy or thrill that she had once felt for them. It was no fun to already know a book before you read it. During their first meeting, Professor Dumbledore and the Headmaster had mentioned an attempt to lift the Obliviate charm, but she had heard no word from them since. Hermione had begun to wonder if they had forgotten about her.

So there she was, sitting at a table behind the stacks, absently flipping through; 'Vampires, and Other Parasitic Creatures to Avoid.' when she sighed and let her head drop onto the table with a dramatic thump. It seemed as though the loud ticking of the giant clock in the center of the library was slowing to a halt. tick. tick. tick. Tick...Tick...Tick... It was going to be a long day.

"Perhaps you should try the restricted section." Came a low, velvety-smooth voice, centemeters from her ear, snapping her from her reverie.

"No one's allowed in there." _Git. _She thought.

"Not everyone." Tom agreed, silently conjuring Hermione's library card from her bag. She tried to grab it from him, but he pulled it away from her grasp. "Only those with the Headmaster's signature are allowed in," He lay the card flat on the table and pointed a pale, slender finger firmly on Armando Dippet's long, flowing signature. "Like yours. And," He leaned in on Hermione, uncomfortably close. "Insults are really not necessary, Miss Granger."

"Stuck in a dark little room with me, Riddle? Wouldn't that cramp your style?"

"As it is, I don't have one. Very few do." He said indignantly. Removing his finger from her card, he produced his own which did not posess the signature.

Hermione's eyes twinkled at this. "And it must burn you up that_ I'm _one of them." She glanced at Tom's card and snickered.

"Your middle name is Marvolo?"

"Do you find that amusing?"

"That's why you're here isn't it? You don't have one, so you want mine." Giggle. "Marvolo."

Tom's jaw clenched, ever so slightly. "I see that I am wasting my time." He turned to leave.

Tom saw her in the back of the library. She was sitting at a table looking utterly bored. He decided that this was a opportune moment to approach her about the card, knowing full well that she wouldn't be as easy to charm as others. As he advanced on her warily, he watched as she sighed loudly and let her head fall onto the table with a loud thunk. Honestly, he had always thought the French were very stringent in the ways of ettiquette and decorum. Apparantly this one had missed the boat. Slumped in her chair, forehead kissing the tables' worn surface, and hair every which-way, she truly was a sight. It was no wonder people got out of her way.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered; "Perhaps you should should try the restricted section." in a low, sultry voice. Women seemed to like it when he spoke in this manner. Then again, women seemed to like everything he did to them.

The little imp didn't even bother to lift her head when she answered him; "No one's allowed in there." _Git_.

He had distinctly heard that. Normally she had practiced impeccable Occlumency against him, for he had tried to probe her mind many times. It was another reason she impressed him, few minds successfully resisted when his wanted in. It seemed that she had wanted him to hear that little barb.

"Not everyone." Tom agreed, remaining pleasant and ignoring her rudeness. Conjuring her card from a pocket in her robes seemed to be the only thing to get her attention. She grabbed for it, but he was too quick. "Only the ones with the Headmaster's signature are allowed in." He placed the card before her and pointed to the signature. "Like yours. And," He leaned in close to her, visibly making her uncomfortable. "Insults are really not necessary, Miss Granger."

"Stuck in a dark little room with me, Riddle? Wouldn't that cramp your style?" He had never had such trouble with a woman before. This was proving...dissapointing.

"As it is, I don't have one. Very few do." He replied with mock indignaty, using guilt in an attempt to salvage the conversation. He produced his own card, showing her the difference.

"And it must burn you up that_ I'm _one of them." Upon looking at his card, she giggled. "Your middle name's Marvolo?"

"Do you find that amusing?" He had a feeling the whole thing was an exercise in futility.

"That's why you're here isn't it? You don't have one, so you want mine." She giggled again. "Marvolo." His jaw clenched in annoyance.

"I see that I am wasting my time." Turning to leave, he chastised himself for visibly showing his anger, however miniscule.

"Wait." He stopped. She got up and walked over to him. Her eyes low-lidded as she straightened his tie, which did not need straightening. What was she up to?

Her eyes assumed a blank, glassy sheen. "I'm sure we can work something out." Merlin, was she trying to seduce him? She must be joking. She, with the grossly overlarge robes and unruly hair? Even her speech was unrefined. Honestly, there had to be other means of entry to the restricted section beyond having this little waif bent over the One-Eyed Witch during the lunch hour. He wasn't above it, though. He'd done it before. But that didn't mean he looked forward to it.

Hemione felt rediculous, twirling her hair like an idiot, fumbling with the git's tie. She was sure Tom saw right through it. After the inkpot incident he had left her well enough alone, until today that is. He was obviously interested in her library card, access to the restricted section to be precise. Why? She had no idea...yet, and she'd be damned if she allowed him to use her as a means to an end.

He stood stiff and unmoving with one eyebrow raised. He towered over her and his steel-gray gaze never wavered. Hermione, seeing his silence as a victory, wracked her brain to name her terms. What does one ask of the Headboy, who was currently the most powerful student as far as privilege was concerned? It didn't matter, she didn't get time to finish her thought because Tom had without warning closed the gap between them, pinning her to the stacks.

When his lips crashed against hers, it wasn't at all gentle. It wasn't gentle or loving or affectionate in any way. It was rough and brazen the way his mouth demanded her participation. It was _posessive, _and for those few stolen seconds Hermione would almost have willingly believed that she was totally, completely, and unabashedly his. Tom's hands wrapped around her waist through her robes and she found her self being crushed against his very solid form. Who knew such strength lied beneath such a slender looking physique? He picked her up as if she were nothing at all and set her down so roughly onto the table, she had to break the kiss and brace herself with both hands so not to fall backward.

But he would have none of that. Tom grabbed her just under both knees and slid her across the table back towards him and engaged her yet again into another fervent, heated kiss. She wondered if he thought that she hadn't noticed that he had removed her card from the pocket in her robes and slipped it into a pocket of his own. She also wondered if he hadn't noticed that she had taken it back. Either way, she pulled away from him with a very self-satisfied look on her face as she raised her card held between her index and middle finger into his line of view. She surmised that the flicker of anger in his eyes meant that he indeed had not noticed.

"That was very nice, but if you want this," She waved the card under his nose. "It'll take more than a quick snog behind the stacks. You want this? You'll have to clear out half your crap from out of the common room. You want this? You'll have to learn how to share. Tables, chairs and," She paused, knowing it would be the biggest blow. "Bookshelves."

That did it. He did not hide it this time. Leering at her openly, he roughly threw her from him. Then he smoothed his hair and rearranged his robes. That done, he stalked away, not saying a single word.

Now it was Hermione's turn to be amused. Merlin, he ran hot and cold! She raised a hand to her heat-tinged cheek. He'd brought it on himself, the git, thinking he could just use her the way he did. Then again, recalling herself smiling and straightning his tie, she was just as guilty of manipulation as he, and -

_"I'm sure we can work something out..." _

Merlin! He didn't think she had lead him on did he? Reviewing the events, it was perfectly logical to assume that she had _wanted_ him to snog her senseless!

It didn't matter though, she wasn't about to hand over her library card. Something about Tom's demeanor set alarms off in Hermione's head. Every fiber telling her not to let him have it. What was so great about the restricted section that he wanted it so bad? She only asked him to clear out of the common room because she was sure he'd never do it and hopefully, knowing her terms, he would leave her be about it. But no, she was sure that if he couldn't barter it from her then he'd find some way to steal it, which meant she had a few more books she needed to check out.

She straightened her robes and fixed her hair, grabbed her bag and slid off the table. Her knees nearly buckled and refused to hold her up._ Stupid git_. She thought._ Why did he have to be so damn handsome?_

Tom Riddle was highly irritated with himself. Bested by a silly schoolgirl. Was he going soft? No, he insisted. With schoolwork on top of his Headboy duties on top of...everything else. He was simply distracted, thats all. Tom hadn't had a decent...diversion in quite some time. 'The thrill of the hunt' he had heard it called, was a game he enjoyed. Whether it was stalking a woman or an enemy, the feeling was the same. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the challenge. Kept him sharp. He just did not like to lose. Though, if this girl had thought she'd gotten the best of him, she was mistaken. He'd get what he wanted...and perhaps a bit more. Who knew the little minx had a halfway decent form underneath all those layers? No matter, she was an obstacle to be dealt with, nothing more.

Hermione stalked back to the portrait hole exhausted. Her eyes were strained from hours of reading, but she was confidant that the enchantments she had administered would give _someone_ a very bad day if they decided to lift _something _from her person.

When she reached Sir Cadagon, he was sitting against his tree, draining another bottle of wine and singing loudly and _badly. _The other surrounding portraits had their hands to their ears, glaring daggers at him.

"Iwana cauldron of HOT STRONG LOVE! _hic! _Keep me _hic! _warm _hic!_ TONIGHT!" Hermione sighed in frustration.

"My, Sir Cadagon," She said flatly. "How brightly your armor glints in the torchlight. Have you had it shined?"

Cadagon stopped singing, he blinked for a while, looked around and appeared stunned to see Hermione.

"Ah!, My Lady!," His visor crashed down again.

"No doubt he's changed the password again. What is it this time? 'A quick snog behind the stacks?" Or maybe.. 'Making out with 'Mione on a monday morning?' Or if he_ really _wanted to be snarky -"

"Inkpot, Sir Cadagon." Came a voice directly behind her. The portrait swung open.

Hermione gaped. "I...You...Really ought to stop sneeking up on people!"

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Granger?" Tom smirked, then nodded to the door. "Ladies first."

He wasn't the kind of person one felt comfortable turning their back on. Hermione whirled around haughtily, but hurried ahead of him. She reached the middle of the common room before she stopped dead in her tracks by what she saw. All of Tom's things, all of the books and parchment and quills and ink that had been neatly littered on the tables, and the _bookshelf_ had been reduced...by half.

Two words rang throughout her mind.

_"Uh Oh..."_

And Tom heard it.

_OkAy! A little tension there! Had a bit of trouble writing this one, wanted to heat it up a bit, but still keep them into character and true to the plot I've layed out. I also wanted both character's thoughts and feelings on that one conversation. It was not a copy-and-paste error. Read and Review People! TTFN!_


	8. What Dreams May Come

Disclaimer: Its all Rowling, baby.

Note from author: I know it's been a while, I apologise. Everything is beginning to come together, I am being extra thorough to make sure I don't write myself into a corner, and also make sure all of my peices are fitting.

Summary: _A black gloved hand covered Hermione's mouth, and the intruder - who seemed to posess strength beyond that of his size - picked her up, towel and all and seated her apon the small bathroom sink._

This Day in Age

Chap 8: What Dreams May Come

_Darkness._

_There was darkness all around her. The rushing wind echoed hollow and eerie off stone walls that Hermione couldn't see. Fear was the most tangible thing in the cave with her, it was raw and pulsated off her in waves. Moving forward, she made out a pinprick of green light ahead of her. The light became bigger and bigger the closer she got. Almost there, her legs protested every step of the way and inched forward at almost a snail's pace until the light from above formed a perfect circle of bright green on the cave's floor. Only two thoughts repeated themselves over and over in her mind;_

_'Be quiet. Not alone. Be quiet. Not alone.' _

_Searching the darkness, she saw nothing. Hermione struggled to keep her footsteps silent despite the uneven, rocky surface beneath her feet. She could not risk being heard._

_"But, they've already heard you."_

_It was Tom, in the center of the circle, bathed in the green light. Hermione's previous terror was instantly replaced by an instant flood of affection for him that she did not understand, and then to incredible sadness. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. The circle was his prison, she realized. He could not leave the light._

_His eyes softened when she came into his view, beautiful and warm and brown._

_"'Mione, you should not be here." He said, smooth and clear, hitched with concern and affection._

_"I'm sorry!" She wiped her wet eyes. "I never wanted any of this for you." _

_"Sshh, 'Mione. It hasn't happened yet, there's still time." _

_She nodded, then took a deep breath. Hermione wanted more than anything to reach into the light and hold his hand, hold him, but something told her that it would be a grave mistake._

_"Was it very hard? With Him?" She said finally._

_"No." He sighed._

_"You're lying, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't know, and by the time I did -" Fresh tears flowed freely from Hermione's eyes._

_"Please, don't cry anymore." He said gently. "There is a way to stop it, there is - but you must be strong and resist him. Don't let yourself belong to him. If you become his, 'Moine," His tone was dark and serious. "Then all this will be for naught."_

_Her tears ceased and she looked at him steadily. "Is there any way at all to save you?"_

_He was silent for a while. "Do you remember what she said, 'Mione?_

_ 'Seek Him on the Day of Ages_

_ Follow the Moon to where the World Ends _

_Find the Ocean in which no Fish will dwell _

_Then you must battle the Whipping Winds _

_until you reach a Great Darkness _

_Where One Life will be traded for Another."_

_"Where one life will be traded for another." He repeated. "It was always meant to be me."_

_"I came all this way to find you, only to lose you now?" The tears were threatening to return again._

_He smiled at her. He truly as beautiful. "But you came. That's enough for me."_

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

There it was again. It was harder to dismiss now, as it happened more and more frequently. At first Hermione attributed it to her interaction with Riddle, which was becoming more unpleasant as of late, but her Tom was so different than the real thing. Currently, Hermione preferred the former rather than the latter.

But there was no denying the dreams. She'd had them since she arrived. The dreams themselves were confusing. It was like she was on the outside looking in. She knew her thoughts and feelings, but only to an extent. She could see herself, see Tom, but what exactly was going on, she had no idea. It was like being on the outside of an inside joke. The Hermione in her dreams seemed to know what was happening, but she herself was still in the dark, so to speak.

_'Seek Him on the Day of Ages.' _ That seemed very familiar to her, but it was fuzzy and she knew better than to push.

Hermione rose out of bed. She had fallen asleep reading again. There were books piled on her bed and she was still wearing yesterday's clothes. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she decided to head into the shower. It was 3 am, Tom would undoubtedly still be sleeping, being Saturday he didn't have classes, so she didn't expect him to rise for a few more hours yet. There was no need to rush.

Grabbing her things, (clean robes, a towel and toiletries) she headed out her portrait and crossed the common room to the bathroom she and Riddle shared. Hermione closed the bathroom door and turned on the water. Steam had already begun to fog the mirror when she disrobed and stepped into the spray. Tense muscles relaxed under the hot water. She bent her head entirely under and felt relief spread through her sore, strained eyes and scolded herself silently for reading at night. Despite her body's protests, after rinsing the suds out of her hair and off her body, she turned the taps and reached out from behind the curtain for her towel. Upon draping the cloth around herself she pulled back the curtain. Panic struck her when she saw the black hooded intruder looming over the shower. Hermione took a deep breath and...

If anyone had indeed _been_ in the owlry at three in the morning, they would have been both surprised and annoyed that at that very moment, every single owl had taken it apon themselves to make a sudden, collective, and hasty exit, insulted by such a very unpleasant and rude awakening in so early an hour.

A black gloved hand covered Hermione's mouth, and the intruder - who seemed to posess strength beyond that of his size - picked her up, towel and all and seated her apon the small bathroom sink.

"You _WILL_ be quiet!" He hissed. She nodded, wide-eyed. He released his hand from her mouth.

"You-You're in for it n-now!" Hermione gasped. "My r-roommate will have heard me scream, and he gets very c-cranky if he doesn't get his beauty sleep. H-he'll hex you to o-oblivion for waking him up."

"Will he now, Miss Granger?" Her attacker lowered his hood. It was Tom. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as it dropped in shock. Not because Riddle had been her attacker, but because his pale, angular, and handsome face was covered in red scratches that formed crude letters and spelled the word; T H E I F.

Hermione had forgotten about all the lovely protection spells she had cast on her card, thinking he would rather steal it from her than to give in to her demand of sharing half the common room with her. She had to admit though, she had put a great many more jinxes on that card, and for him to anticipate _and_ disable all but one was extremely impressive.

Tom pushed Hermione's wand roughly into her hand. "You _WILL_ fix this, _now._" He ordered, positively seething.

Later, she would attribute her compliance to the lingering affection she had felt for her Dream Tom. Hermione muttered the countercurse without protest, and the deep, red scratches slowly dissipated and Tom's face regained its smooth, alabaster beauty. At least it would have save his eyes, bloodshot red from lack of sleep and the light shadow of stubble on his chin.

"What is it in the restricted section you want so badly that you feel you must sneak into the library at all hours of the night to get it?" Hermione asked, still very aware of her state of undress. Tom opened his mouth to retaliate but Hermione stopped him. "Oh forget it, if you wanted me to know, you would just asked me to check it out for you rather than go to all this trouble to get my card for yourself. Which you really needn't have bothered. You've earned the right to be here, whereas I'm not even an official student. This space is yours by right, and the only reason I asked you to share it was because I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it. I didn't want to let you use my card because you're a bully and I don't like being coerced or intimidated into doing things. So, give me back my card, you move your things back and lets call it a day, shall we?"

Tom contemplated this for a few seconds. His hands like a visegrip on her arms, keeping her behind planted firmly on the bathroom sink. Then he reached into his pocket and produced her library card, smirking as he tucked it into the fold of her towel. And then, drawing his wand from his robes and pointing it out of the wide open bathroom door, (with a flourish, of course) he silently conjured all of his things in the common room to their rightful place. There were sounds of rushing wind, fluttering parchment and the clink of inkpots. The sheer force of it doused the fire in the fireplace. It really was a sight to see. That done, his eyes returned to Hermione, his features softened into a mischievous smirk as he attempted half-heartedly to peek behind her towel by lifting the fold with his wand.

This earned him a firm slap on the hand. He retreated, and helped her off the sink as if he were doing her a favor, as if he didn't just barge in the bathroom with her half-naked. Hermione (who tried to salvage what what was left of her dignity) stiffened and turned towards the door, careful to whip her head around quickly and purposefully assault Riddle with a faceful of wet hair.

_THWAP!_

Tom wiped his face as Hermione stalked haughtily towards her portrait hole. She didn't see his features contorting, straining to keep his anger in check.

"I think perhaps, Miss Granger," He said with her back to him. "That our relationship has had a, shall I say...rocky start?"

"And you mean to put it right by peeping in at me in the shower and barking orders while manhandling me?"

"It just seems such a shame, two obviously brilliant minds like ours and we cannot co-exist peacefully...work together."

Hermione turned, her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You want something."

"I simply think that two like-minded individuals butting heads as we are is a terrible loss."

"Drop the act, Riddle. You want something, out with it."

Tom smiled. But the smile that charmed so many others had no effect on Hermione. She saw straight through. She saw through the veil of feigned sincerity in his eyes, straight through to the coldness within.

"I've been working on a theorem for a potion as of late, but have come to a point where no known magical ingredient will accomplish my goal without unwanted reactions with the others. I plan to discover a new ingredient that will. I have an idea of where to start, but the aquisition proves...tricky for myself alone to retrieve."

"And what exactly is this theorem?"

"A surprise."

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. He wanted her help and yet he was giving her vague answers? Despite her misgivings, she would be lying if she'd said that her curiosity had not been piqued. Obviously he wanted something that was not easily aquired, he did not strike Hermione as someone who frequently asked for help. It probably entailed the breaking of school rules or he would not have asked Hogwarts' only non-student and resident whacko, lest he risk his position as Head Boy.

"And how do I fit in all this?"

Tom smiled, a real smile this time.

"I'm glad you asked." He pulled a small black velvet pouch from his pocket, then unfastened the golden drawstrings and tipped the bag upside down. Something small and clear in color tumbled from the pouch and into Tom's open palm. He made an effort to quickly close his hand into a fist, as if he didn't want her to see, but Hermione had found that she posessed a talent for seeing things that others would normally miss. She noticed that the object, most likely a stone, had changed color when it made direct contact with his skin. It was no longer clear and shiny, but black and dull. No light reflected off its surface, it was as if the small object absorbed all light around it.

"Hold out your hand." He said with such a demanding and authoritative manner, Hermione was immediatly reminded of his earlier behavior towards her and had half a mind to tell him exactly where he could stuff that pouch, but again...curiosity got the better of her, and she held out her hand. When he dropped the stone into her hand she found it was smooth and cool to the touch. When he removed his hand, however, Hermione saw that black almost void-like color it had taken when in Riddle's hand was filtering away, like water down a drain, but instead of returning to its original colorless state, it shone in a brilliant white light, until it was too bright to look at. This result seemed to please Tom.

"Just as I thought," He smirked. "pure as the driven snow."

"What is this?"

"What do you think it is, Miss Granger?"

"Well, at first I thought it was a source of light, perhaps like The Hand of Glory, but it's yours, not mine, and it didn't work for you. Oh!," Hermione gasped in realization. "I know what this is! It's a Stone of Virtue! They say that there was one of these imbedded into the hilt of Excalibur, so only one pure of heart could draw it from the stone. They're_ very _rare..."

"So rare in fact, Miss Granger, that this is the very stone imbedded into Excalibur."

"So...what? You want we should go questing for the Holy Grail?"

"Don't be silly, Miss Granger, no such thing exists. I told you, it's an ingredient I'm looking for, not objects of fictitious legend. You see, a Stone of Virtue does not merely detect the purity of one's soul, but also the measure of one's..._physical integrity_. The ingredient I seek to retrieve requires a certain amount of_ chastity,_ a prerequisite of which_ I _am, I'm afraid, disqualified."

"Let me get this straight," Hermione raised her eyebrow, arms still crossed over her chest. "You want me to help you discover a new magical ingredient -the details of which you will not divulge- for an expirimental potion -of which you will _also_ not divulge- simply because you, being not a virgin may not gather said ingredient, and I, being a virgin, can."

"Exactly, Miss Granger. Now," Tom grasped her gently by the arm, leading her towards the portrait hole. "if we leave now, we can still make it back before -"

"Now?" Hermione gaped, aghast. "I'm not going anywhere now!"

"It's three-thirty, Miss Granger, if we wish to return before the others rise -"

"I'm sorry, Tom," Hermione wrenched her arm from his grip and stalked back to her own portrait. "but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

"And just how long shall I _'have to' _ wait?" Tom's voice regained its authoratative tone.

"UNTIL I GET DRESSED!" Hermione's portrait slammed behind her.

By the time Hermione emerged from behind her portrait (fully clothed and hair freshly combed) she saw that Tom had also taken the time to freshen up. He was now cleanshaven and wearing his thick winter cloak and there was a worn leather satchel draped across one shoulder. She could only wonder what was in it as she draped her own cloak around herself.

"I do hope that this thing you're looking for can be located on school grounds."

"In a manner of speaking. Now, shall we be off?" He held out his arm which she linked with hers and they disapeared through the portrait hole.

Tom led her down the dimly lit corridors with an air as if he owned them. There was no shuffling or sneaking around, no sinking into the shadows, no effort at all to masque their presence. At one point, Hermione nearly jumped at the sight of a boy emerging from another corridor. It was the same tall blond boy who had met her and Mr. Fowles at the doors to the Entrance Hall the night Hermione had arrived. At first, he gave her the same sour-faced look as he had when he'd first seen her, but as soon as his eyes drifted to Tom, however, his expression changed dramatically, as if her standing with this boy had changed the moment he saw her in Tom's company. The boy looked at Tom with a reverance as if he were in the presence of some sort of_ diety_. Hermione swore that he had very nearly _bowed_.

"Abraxas." Tom nodded to him in acknowlegence.

"Sir," The boy called Abraxas replied. Without another word, he turned and was on his way.

"Wow," Hermione said finally, waiting until they were out of earshot. "It pays to be the Head Boy around here."

"Among other things. Come along."

He led her out onto the Hogwarts grounds, it was bitter cold for mid-November. Hermione's breath formed clouds of vapor and she wished for a moment that she could be Tom simply so she could wear trousers, her legs were freezing. She followed Tom around the Quidditch Pitch and past the Owlery. Hermione wasn't sure by their direction whether they were to head into the forest or toward the lake.

"There was another reason for bringing me, wasn't there?"

"How do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"You were hoping the stone would glow for me weren't you? It made things so much easier, taking me rather than an actual student -"

"I was counting on it, yes, but it had nothing to do with the status as a student, as it did... the pleasure of your company."

"_The pleasure of my company_? You're _joking_! We can't last a fortnight without being at each other's throats."

"Exactly my point, you see. You are much more entertaining than one of those vapid, dimwitted girls that are always following me 'round."

"Hang on, its not their fault they act that way. D'you know what they call my room? They call it The Spinster's Bedroom. Thats why the Head Girl's position has been vacant for so many years. Those _dimwits_ - as you call them have brainwashed to believe that the only thing for them in life is to be married and making babies. Merlin _forbid_ that a man catch wind that they have any inkling of intelligence and jeapordize the only option in life they have. So you have no reason to complain because as far as I'm concerned, you're just a victim of your own success."

It had seemed the Hermione had been wrong on both counts. They had not been heading for the forest or the lake but the steep, rocky cliffside that separated the two. This was going to prove quite perilous, indeed. The near vertical drop from the edge to the lake was not inviting, getting closer she noticed that the lake had partailly frozen over.

"Am I?," Tom replied, holding her by the arm and guiding her across the rocky terrain, very nearly lifting her up and carrying her over the more perilous regions. "Before I became Prefect and was recognized as the most intelligent and capable student, I was simply the 'Slytherin Halfblood', unworthy of their attention. Only now, that I am Head Boy, with rumors flying that I am Minister of Magic material, do these girls - whom you've so nobly defended - begin to salivate and circle like vultures. So I ask you, Miss Granger, am I any less a peice of meat?"

Hermione blinked. "I never thou - Ahhh!" She screamed as she lost her footing and nearly her balance when she felt Tom's hand roughly grip her arm, steadying her.

"I think perhaps, Miss Granger, that this is a conversation best finished at a time when plunging to our deaths is no longer a threat looming over our heads."

Hermione nodded in agreement. They carried on.

She couldn't help but feel a certain familiarity with the journey they had been making. The farther along they went the more she began to notice it. The sun had begun to peek its eyes open and a bit of golden light could be seen over the lake toward the horizon. Glancing over the edge, Hermione saw not the glossy sheen of the frozen lake below, but an angry churning sea. The heavy odor of seawater wafted through her nostrils, the rocks beneath her feet had become ebony black, sharp and menacing, and her palms were so _itchy_. When Tom noticed her rubbing her hands on her outer robes, he raised an eyebrow.

"Guilty conscience?"

His smooth, clear voice snapped Hermione from her reverie. She looked at him questioningly. He smirked amusedly and took her hand in his.

"Out, damned spot." He teased, but his expression fell as he further inspected her palms. Though there was no obvious wound he could see, Hermione's palms were coated in a thin sheen of dried blood.

"Tell me how this happened." It was more of a demand than a request.

"I don't know, my hands simply began to itch." She left out the hallucinations. People already thought she was crazy.

His anger was obvious, but it did not seem to be directed towards her, if anything he seemed almost _concerned_.

"Come, we must get off the rocks." He lead her onto a hidden path that lead into the forest. She now understood why they had to go around the cliffside, there was no access to the path any other way. When they were few paces in, Tom stopped her.

"Hold out your hands, palms up." He demanded. Hermoine held them up and the blood on her hands dissapeared with a silent flourish of Tom's wand. "Now," He said. "Show me exactly where you rubbed your hands on your robes. They will not come to you if they smell blood."

"Um, mostly along the hem, I think - Hang on - _They_?" She questioned him. "_They_ won't come to me? Who exactly are _they_?" Hermione's eyes glared coldly at Tom. Finally, it all registered. "Pleasure of my company my _foot_! You wanted a virgin so you could hunt Unicorns! You-"

Again, Tom's hand covered Hermione's mouth. "We musn't be heard, Miss Granger. Other creatures inhabit this forest. It would be...unpleasant if our presence was made known to them."

Hermione wrenched his hand from her mouth. Now that she was fully clothed she would not allow herself to be manhandled in such a way. "I don't care who hears us! You are the most incredible git! You drag me across a damned _mountain _with stories of Excalibur and pure hearts, and the whole time you want to -" Hermione cut herself short and she looked fearfully at the ground, which had begun to tremble violently beneath her feet.

"Tom?"

Everything happened in double speed after that. Tom shoving her off the path and into the brush, the Unicorn charging Tom, with its golden horn aimed directly at his heart, forcing him backwards out of the woods and back onto the rocks. Tom losing his balance at the edge, falling over, his distant cry of "_Reducto_!" and the sickening splash when he hit the water.

Then Nothing.

"_Serpensortia_!" Hermione cried, conjuring a snake into the Unicorn's path, causing it to whinny, buck up on its hind legs and trot away. She ran to the ledge and looked down for any sign of Tom. There was none, but thank Merlin that he knew to break the ice before he went under. There was a large hole in the frozen lake where he had presumably fallen in, the water was still rippling with the force of his descent, but there was no sign that he had resurfaced. If Hermione didn't think quickly, Tom could either drown or die of hypothermia. _Leave Him_. A voice in her mind insisted, from the fuzzy part of her memory that she dare not push. _Do the world a favor. _No. She would not leave him. Git or not, he could have defended himself with the split-second he used to push her off the path to safety. So, Hermione did the first thing that came to mind. She took a deep breath, and she jumped in after him.

She transfigured a loose boulder into a carpet and placed a Hover charm on it on the way down. She landed on it as it floated, stationary over the hole in the ice. She leaned over the hole and saw nothing but dark black water and her own reflection staring back at her.

Tom knew it was him the Unicorn was after when it charged, just as he knew better than to cast magic against it. His plan at first was to climb down the rocks far enough to where the Unicorn could not follow, then for Hermione to collect the specimen he desired and that would be that. He did not expect to lose his balance, Tom Riddle is nothing if not the embodiment of grace and poise, not to mention the most brilliant wizard ever to grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. But one's perspective does change when facing the wrong end of a Unicorn's horn, and then tittering off the ledge of a cliff. He had only seconds to break the ice before he fell. The last thing he remembered thinking before the stabbing pain of the icey cold water hit him, before he began sinking like a rock to the bottom, was that; Why he, who never trusted anyone, never allowed himself to rely on anyone _but_ himself, was wondering exactly how Hermione was going to get him out.

"_Levicorpus_! Ohhhh! _Levicorpus_!" Hermione couldn't see anything beneath the murky surface and randomly shot the jinx futilely through the water, hoping to hit Tom and drag him up. She forced herself to quell the panic she felt threatening to rise through her. Tom had been under for nearly a minute, it would do him no good to go to pieces.

"Ooooh, uuumm_ Accio Tom Riddle_!" Bubbles rose up from the bottom and Tom's unconscious form broke through the water's surface and hovered just before her. "_Mobilicorpus_!" His body laid itself flat and floated over to her, dripping on the carpet. "Not good. Not good. Not breathing. Uuumm, Oh, _Rictusempra_!" The Tickling Curse, it immediatley caused Tom to sputter and cough up water, Hermione applied the countercurse and he began to gasp in large gulps of air.

"Tom! It's Hermione, can you hear me? We need to get you out of those wet things. We need to get you -"

Tom took hold of her arm, still gasping for air and shivering violently. "No...Cushing..."

"Yoo could catch pnemonia, Tom, or worse, hypothermia -"

"NO!" He was still trembling all over, though Hermione noticed that even now, he tried, however unsuccessfully, to cease the involentary tremoring. Inches from death, Tom Riddle still needed to be in control. His grip on her arm tightnened, his eyes burned with authority despite his vulnerable state.

"You...will tell...No One...of this."

"Tom, we need to -"

"NO ONE!" He rasped. Then his eyes began to droop, and his grip on her arm loosened. He was unconscious.

Hermione wasted no time ripping off his heavy, sodden robes and threw them into a pile on the opposite side of the carpet. Though prestinely clean and pressed and worn with not a single article out of place, they were grayed and obviously made to fit a slightly shorter frame. She deduced that he probably got them secondhand and that they may be his only set. Otherwise she would have discarded the extra weight from the carpet. Sadly, the satchel that had been slung over his shoulder had been lost to the lake.

She stripped him down to his undershirt and boxers, not brave enough to strip him completely. Thin whisps of steam seemed to seep from the folds of the wet fabric, something Hermione recognized as heat leaving Tom's body that he could not afford to lose. She applied a drying spell to the underclothes she left on as well as his hair and the rest of his body, and wrapped him in her own winter cloak. No warming charm she tried was successful, but this was to be expected. The charm worked through the bloodstream, making its way to the heart, but with a weak pulse, the charm would prove unnaffective. His pale, almost blue skin was still ice-cold even though nestled inside the residual warmth of her cloak.

Light had begun to pour in through the horizon. Even the least dilligent of students would be beginning to rise, not to mention professors. Hermoine had to not only find a way to secret Tom into the castle, she had to do it without being seen.

Then it hit her. Nearly every important entryway in Hogwarts was protected by a password of some kind. Entrances to all dorms were guarded by portraits, but who (especially hundreds of stories up) would bother with the windows? With that, she commanded her carpet to rise up off the ground. She wanted to get to a high enough altitude to not be noticed when they approached the castle. Swallowing her pride, she sheilded Tom with her body to protect him from the wind's biting chill as they sailed at top speed toward large window overlooking the lake in their common room.

As she figured, the window was left wardless. Hermione opened it with no trouble. Rapidly, she levitated Tom's limp, pale frame onto the sofa closest to the fireplace. She stoked the fire to burn furiously until the room was blistering hot, almost tropical. Tom's wet robes fell to the floor with a loud _Slap! _as Hermione returned the carpet back to a rock, directed it out of the window and allowed it to plunge to the ground below.

Abraxas Malfoy was outside heading for the owlry. He hadn't slept at all that night as today was the day he'd have to owl Father and tell him of his more than abysmal marks in Transfiguration. In his letter he remarked on how Professor Dumbledore was a; _'Twinkly eyed old codger who shamelessly flaunted his favor of the Griffindors.' _and that he _'had to work twice as hard for half the marks.' _ hoping to feed his father's distaste for the deputy headmaster and avoid punishment. It was suffice to say, that he had been jumpy to begin with. When a boulder the size of his head fell from the sky and landed not a foot from where he had been walking, he had felt that maybe Father had already heard the news. He turned around and half ran (because a true Malfoy does not run) back to the castle, looking overhead until he was safely inside.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, you'd better be _extremely_ accomodating to me after this." Hermione glared at the unconscious boy as she stripped herself down to her underthings and removed his shirt. An intuition told her that skin to skin contact was best to thwart hypothermia. Briefly, she appreciated what she had uncovered, Tom was slender, yes, but lean. There wasn't a ounce of fat on him. She could see the muscles of his biceps wrapping themselves around his arm. No wonder he was able to carry her so easily. Conjuring her large, heavy comforter from her dormitory, she climbed atop him on the sofa and wrapped the blanket around them. His skin was warmer than before, but not yet what it should be, but his breathing had become more even. Hermione lay her head on his chest directly over his heart and heard a much steadier beat. She lay that way for an uncertain amount of time before she realized that he was no longer unconscious, simply sleeping.

She sat up for a moment and watched as the firelight danced and played light and shadows across the sharp, angular shape of his profile. Hermione wondered how such a prefect specimen of masculine beauty could be such a pain in the arse. She reminded herself to ask when he woke up as she returned her head to its previous place on his chest. With her ear to his heart she heard a normal _thump-thump, thump-thump,_ and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, Mr. Riddle, it seems that there's a heart in there after all." And whether it was the warmth of the fire, or the distinctively male scent of Tom, Hermione did not know, but she drifted off just the same.

_A/N I humbly apologise for the month long wait, everyone. This was a major plot point and I wanted to read, reread and re-reread to make sure I wasn't appearing to be terribly long-winded. I also tried harder to make the chapter a bit longer. Normally, I would have split the bathroom scene and the unicorn scene as two different chapters. But I have gotten many requests in my reviews for longer chapters. I would also like to amend my previous statement that I do not want corrections of my atrocious spelling and grammar. One reviewer did it anyway, but in a completely constructive way and it really was a big help. So, If you notice of my many errors, feel free to kindly correct me. As long as it is constructive, it would be most appreciated. Oh! Question! What id the difference between 'upon' and 'apon'? that's been bugging me! Thanx for all the great reviews everyone! TTFN!_


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